A little autobiography

Too much is better than too little. 

I’m a giver by nature, just picky of what exactly I give. Does that make me a picker? A chooser?

I used to pride myself in being detached and staying far and cold and managing to be more brain than hearts; now I’ve found that my mind too can be as soft as the red tissue you admire and though sharp as a thorn, soft as a petal. I can’t be soft hearted, that’s just not me – but I can be soft minded. My thoughts can be like velvet gloves, if you touch them. 

Because this weird world we live in wants me to be cold and to be magnetized to one of the sides of the polarized, but I refuse. As stubbornly as ever I stand my ground. Little clumsy feet firmly planted where I damn right want them to be, adversely to where it’s supposed to or should be in, you know, other people’s opinions. 

Games have always nagged at my very principles and I’m much more of a creator than a player. These things flow through my mind in a speed you wouldn’t believe. Am I crazy, or just too fueled up in the brain? Where do these marvelous yet strange thoughts come from, I wonder. Dreams of faraway planets but also wanting to stick around just so that maybe I can make a little bit of this world a little bit better. 

Why is my thing words? It could be the agility of my feet, or the skill with my fingers on paint. Instead it is this constant craziness of me coming over here to deposit my words in a way that hopefully makes sense, that hopefully someone will read, that seem to capture me better than any portrait ever could. Words in different languages that I know, each with their own taste or context, each my dearest friend yet my most feared enemy. 

I write not because I want to but because I have to, because I can’t help it, I can’t not do it. My biggest treasure and price, my notes and scribbles and these little characters I make my own. Because it’s three in the morning and my fingers tirelessly type away rather than touching the soft pillow in my bed. I write because it’s who I am, right here. Crazy scrambled words and thoughts flowing like a mad river. 

At least it’s one I don’t mind drowning in. 

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